


SinJa Week Collection

by MagiKatFish



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Smut, there's a little bit of everything in here ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 00:04:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7336603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagiKatFish/pseuds/MagiKatFish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of SinJa Week prompt fills from November.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Man of His Word

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so I wrote these way back in November for tumblr but I wanted to archive them here as well so yeah ^^

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sinbad is a man of his word, and Ja’far knows this very well.

Sinbad was a man of his word. Ever since he was young, if he had made a promise, he always kept it. He prided himself on this fact. Even when he grew older, and his promises became dubiously laced with no assurances of subtext, he always kept them. He did exactly what he said he would do, even if that was not exactly what the recipient had been expecting from the vow. It was devious, sure, but it was always his word. No more and no less.

This behavior drove a lot of people crazy; among them was Sinbad’s most trusted advisor. He was a simple man with simple desires. He did not wish for much, but what he did wish for, he wished for with an intense passion that bordered on obsessive. Of course, he would always deny such an accusation, but the facts remained that his as of yet unachieved desire kept him up many a night, and probably would have turned his hair grey too, if it was not already white to start with. 

Indeed, Ja’far wished for one thing and one thing only. And that was for Sinbad to, for once in his life, do his damned work. The king was the slipperiest of snakes, always sneaking away and getting out of his duties, which caused Ja’far to stay up late doing Sinbad’s share of the work. Ja’far had tried everything to fix this. He had tried abolishing alcohol not only from the palace, but from all of Sindria as well, but it had not worked. He had tried scaring off the women, but it had not worked. He had tried threatening the king himself, but it had not worked either. At this point, Ja’far was nearly at the end of his wire. There was, however, still one trick up his sleeves, and he was certain that, given the right conditions, it would be sure to work.

Such an opportunity presented itself one seemingly peaceful day in the kingdom of Sindria. Sinbad was visiting with Yamraiha to talk about the quality of the protective barrier around Sindria. She had of course told him that everything was fine and that he should stop worrying about it so much, and even when he tried to get a word in otherwise, she just fixed him with this fierce glare that he knew would be unwise to challenge. It was for that reason that he found himself strolling through the palace halls, wondering what he should do for the day. Usually there was a pile of paperwork for him to do waiting for him on the desk in his room at the start of the day, courtesy of Ja’far, whose uncanny ability to sneak into his room every day without waking him up always worried and impressed Sinbad, but this morning Sinbad was surprised to find nothing there. Usually he would try to avoid the work anyways, but today, since he had nothing better to do, he was almost a bit disappointed that he had no work. He was almost tempted to go visit Ja’far’s office and see what was going on that made it so he had no work, but just then, one of the palace guards came running up, heavily winded by what was no doubt a long run.

“Your Highness,” The guard panted with what little breath he had left, “there’s a sea monster attacking!”

Sinbad schooled his expression so his happiness would not show on his face. Resisting the urge to grin, he merely nodded and replied in a serious tone. “Very well, assemble the Eight Generals.”

As the guard scurried away, Sinbad allowed himself to grin at last. This was just the distraction he needed to avoid work and appease his boredom. At the same time, he would be able to see Ja’far and learn what his advisor was up to. It was the perfect solution.

Sinbad was greeted by the sight of his trusted generals when he arrived at the usual scene of their grand display. Sharrkan and Yamraiha were busy bickering, as usual, while Pisti was busy talking excitedly to Spartos about something. Hinahoho had brought his children with him, which was technically not allowed but Sinbad did not really mind this time. Masrur and Drakon were acting more serious, which was to be expected of them, although Sinbad was always telling them they should loosen up a bit more. Sinbad paused for a moment after this observation to note something.

“Where is Ja’far?” Sinbad suddenly asked aloud, alerting the assembled seven of his presence.

Most of them merely shrugged in response. It turned out that none of them had seen the parliamentary advisor all day. Sinbad frowned. It was not unusual for Ja’far to go unseen on some days, especially busy ones, but that usually meant more paperwork for Sinbad, not less. Furthermore, Sinbad knew Ja’far would never dare to be late when his presence was required, so it was very strange. Even so, Sinbad could not afford to wait for Ja’far’s arrival, as there was a sea monster currently attacking his nation. He would have to start the hunt without his eighth general. 

“Hinahoho, can you handle this one?” Sinbad asked the large Imuchakk man.

“Of course,” Hinahoho replied with a confident grin.

The fight was, as per usual, extremely one-sided. The poor sea monsters could barely process what was happening before they were thoroughly defeated and ready for cooking. Sinbad was looking forward to the celebration they would be having, but there was a more pressing concern on his mind as the distant cheers of his people reached his ears. Where was Ja’far?

Sinbad’s first order of business when he returned to the palace was to investigate Ja’far’s office. He skipped the polite tradition of knocking and simply barged in. He startled a couple of the parliamentary workers when he did so, but the object of his visit was nowhere to be found. His desk, which was usually a mess due to the large quantity of scrolls laid on top of it, was neatly organized, indicating that no one had touched it recently. He turned his attention to the nearest parliamentary worker and caught their attention with a slight wave of his hand.

“Has Ja’far been in today?”

The worker shook her head frantically. “No, he hasn’t, and we’re really quite busy today, so if you could please find him that would be lovely.”

Sinbad merely nodded obediently. Ja’far’s workers were some of the few that would address him and boss him around so casually, no doubt due to the influence of the man they worked under. Ja’far had long since given up on maintaining an entirely professional and respectful demeanor around his king in front of his staff. Sinbad still smiled at the memory of their shocked faces the first time Ja’far outright scolded him in front of them. 

Sinbad checked a couple other places throughout the palace, such as the gardens and the dining hall, before eventually settling on the last possible location Ja’far could be. Sinbad found the likelihood of Ja’far being there close to none, but it was worthwhile to check anyways, at least to make sure. So there Sinbad found himself, in the middle of the afternoon, outside of the doors to Ja’far’s room. Ja’far rarely slept in past sunrise, so Sinbad did not hold high hopes for finding Ja’far here. However, his concern was growing steadily by the minute, and he had to make sure he checked everywhere before he assembled a proper search party. Ja’far would kill him for wasting everyone’s time.

Sinbad knew Ja’far always insisted on knocking before trying to enter his room, but Sinbad could care less about that rule at this point. He elected to just throw open the door and walk in.  
“Ja’far?” Sinbad called out into the room.

It was strangely dark inside Ja’far’s room. The windows were blocked by the shades drawn across them, which cast the room in a vaguely green glow. However, the strangest thing was the inhabitant of the bed. There was a woman sleeping peacefully underneath the silken covers. She was beautiful, her features softened by the spell of sleep, but to Sinbad, it was like witnessing a nightmare. Who was this mysterious woman? And why was she in Ja’far’s bed? 

The shock lasted only briefly. It was quickly replaced by this growing sensation deep in the pit of Sinbad’s stomach that made his jaw tighten and his hands curl into fists against his sides. It was a sensation that led him to march straight up to the foot of the bed and stare down at the innocent, sleeping form of this woman, with the distinct desire to grab her roughly by the arm, shake her out of her sleep, and toss her outside the palace with a warning to never return, or else. And as he continued to stare at her, the sensation slowly gave way to a new one that caused his shoulders to sag. Sinbad had always thought Ja’far would stay by his side like the way he was now. He may have encouraged it jokingly, but in reality Sinbad had never foreseen the day when Ja’far would find a woman who could possibly be just as important to him as Sinbad. Was this woman going to be the person who finally overthrew Sinbad’s monopoly on Ja’far’s attention? At this thought, the sensation of anger returned to Sinbad, and he asserted to toss this woman out of the palace for good.

He was just moving to do so when the door to Ja’far’s room opened. Sinbad spun around quickly to see who it was, only to make eye contact with a pair of blinking grey eyes. Ja’far stared at the unexpected sight of his king in his room, looming over the bed where a woman was sleeping, before his face immediately transformed into one of distinct displeasure.

“I knew you were lustful, but taking advantage of a woman like this, Sinbad? Honestly?”

Sinbad ignored Ja’far’s jab at his morality and asked with a growl, “Who is this woman?”

Ja’far shook his head. “You really don’t remember? She was one of your more inebriated guests last night. I found her wandering around the palace in tears because you had rejected her, and decided it was unsafe to try and move her much further, so I let her rest here for the night.”

It was Sinbad’s turn to pause and process this newly acquired information. He could not deny that last night had been a bit of a blur, but if Ja’far was really telling the truth then…

“…So she isn’t your lover?”

Ja’far’s eyes widened considerably at Sinbad’s words. “Excuse me?”

“Did you or did you not have sex with this woman?” Sinbad pressed persistently, making his way across the room to stand in front of his baffled advisor.

Ja’far’s face reddened slightly and he attempted to look away. “Of course not. I don’t see why you would think that—”

“Good,” Sinbad declared.

He grabbed Ja’far by the waist with one hand and tilted Ja’far’s chin with the other, so his now completely blushing advisor was looking him in the eye.

“Promise me I’ll be the only one in your heart for as long as you live,” Sinbad all but growled, though his touch was gentle.

Ja’far smiled weakly and chuckled, “Would you promise the same?”

Sinbad pulled Ja’far closer and mumbled, “I’m a man of my word.”

Sinbad could feel Ja’far’s arms come to rest around his neck and Ja’far’s breath against his lips when the pale man replied, “I know you are. That’s why I want you to promise the same.”

It was Sinbad’s turn to laugh. Ja’far knew him well, but sometimes he was misinformed. “In the end, you’re the only one for me, Ja’far. I swear.”

“Good,” Ja’far said simply before closing the distance between them and pressing a quick kiss to Sinbad’s lips. Sinbad was eager to deepen the kiss, but Ja’far deftly pulled away before anything more could happen. Sinbad’s eyes were half lidded, and a frown of disappointment spread over his countenance.

“I have work to do now,” Ja’far declared as he pulled away, “and whatever I don’t do falls to you.”

Sinbad shook his head aggressively and refused to let go of Ja’far. “You don’t have any work.”

Ja’far raised one eyebrow in amusement. “Are you sure about that?”

“I’m a man of my word,” Sinbad declared again.

Ja’far smirked. “I know you are. So it seems you have a lot of work to do. I’ll leave you to it.”

With that, Ja’far managed to slip out of Sinbad’s grip and retreat back out of the doorway and into the hall. It took Sinbad a moment to understand what his advisor had meant, but when it clicked into place, his jaw slackened. He looked around, wondering if this was a joke, before he spotted on Ja’far’s personal desk, which he had overlooked in his rush to location the pale man, a neat pile of scrolls with his name scribbled across the top. He smiled despite himself and shook his head. He was man of his word, after all. Nothing more and nothing less.


	2. Guard Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sinbad and Ja’far were together on guard duty during that night in Balbadd instead.

Balbadd was cold at night. The fog crept ever closer to the seascape city and left a distinct chill in the air that pierced through the loose, light clothing that was Sindrian attire. Unfortunately, Ja’far had not brought anything else to wear aside from his usual uniform (not that he owned anything other than it), so he was forced to suppress the steady shivers that wracked his spine, lest his ever-attentive king notice and attempt to coddle him in order to keep him warm. Ja’far was adamant that he required no babying from his king, but Sinbad was too stubborn to listen to such reason. He would never hear the end of it if Sinbad found out.

Sinbad, on the other hand, was very transparent in expressing his discomfort. He was shivering very obviously, rubbing his hands up and down his arms in a futile attempt to heat them up with what little friction he could generate. Ja’far sighed in exasperation, the condensation from his breath visible in the air. Sometimes he still could not believe how childish Sinbad could really be. Of course, Ja’far knew his king was perfectly capable of handling himself, but nevertheless he stilled managed to find some reason or another to worry. Not that he mistrusted Sinbad—far from it, Ja’far knew that when it came down to it the man would never fail him—but he always kept Ja’far on his toes with all of his antics. Sinbad would claim that it kept Ja’far’s life exciting, and Ja’far would retort flatly that his life needed no such thing, but of course Sinbad would just smile and laugh it off. They both knew that if Ja’far was truly annoyed, Sinbad would know it, and he most certainly would not be laughing. Ja’far smiled slightly in amusement at that thought. 

“What are you thinking about, Ja’far?”

Sinbad’s voice suddenly so close to Ja’far made the pale man startle. He glanced sharply behind him to where Sinbad was now standing, staring at him with an innocent expression and curious eyes. Ja’far, embarrassed at having been caught daydreaming, was quick to recover himself and frown pointedly.

“Shouldn’t you be paying more attention to our objective instead of your allies?” Ja’far pointed out sternly.

Sinbad just smirked knowingly. “Shouldn’t you be doing the same?”

Ja’far inwardly cursed himself for getting distracted, feeling a distinct twinge of annoyance at seeing Sinbad look so smug. Ja’far hated it when Sinbad read him so easily. He sent Sinbad a withering look before turning away, setting his gaze determinedly on the streets around them. Nothing had moved in the past few hours, and it certainly was not the most enjoyable of tasks Ja’far had ever been assigned, but he was now determined to prove that he could do it just fine, without getting distracted. 

His plan was quickly derailed by the sudden presence of arms wrapping around his waist and a sudden purple-haired weight resting on his left shoulder. Sinbad drew Ja’far as close to his own body as he could manage with Ja’far blatantly refusing to allow himself to be moved. 

“I’m cold,” Sinbad mumbled into Ja’far’s shoulder.

Ja’far rolled his eyes and attempted to wiggle out of Sinbad’s grasp, albeit unsuccessfully. Refusing to acknowledge Sinbad’s position with so much as even mere eye contact, Ja’far continued to keep his gaze focused on the streets in front of him.

“Surely you cannot be satisfied with those robes,” Sinbad persisted, his warm breath grazing Ja’far’s neck as he spoke, quietly but deeply.

“Sin,” Ja’far said warningly.

“What? Nothing has happened for hours now, Ja’far,” Sinbad pouted. 

“And it’s our job to make sure nothing does happen,” Ja’far emphasized, “so pay attention.”

Sinbad huffed, and from that sound alone Ja’far knew he would never be able to convince him to just focus on what they were there for. So, when Sinbad began to place light kisses on Ja’far’s neck, tracing a slow line down to his collarbone, Ja’far began to instead convince himself that this was fine too. Ja’far hated to admit it, but he did not require much persuading. He was cold and bored and frankly there were far better things to do during his alone time with Sinbad than to stare blankly at the empty streets of a foreign nation. Those things were, namely, interacting with said man, whose close presence was heating Ja’far up in more ways than just one. He finally allowed himself to relax into Sinbad’s hold and enjoy the attention he was receiving. 

“Why do I get the feeling that this was your plan all along?” Ja’far asked Sinbad as the kisses started to become less playful and innocent. Ja’far could tell that there would be marks on his collarbone the following day, but he could not quite bring himself to be irritated about that. At least, not yet.

“You think too poorly of me, Ja’far,” Sinbad complained, his lips still moving against Ja’far’s skin. 

Ja’far scoffed, “Don’t give me that.”

Sinbad raised his head and turned Ja’far around in his grasp so they were finally facing each other. They leaned forward almost instinctively so that their foreheads were touching. Neither of them were shivering anymore.

“Would you prefer I give you something else?” Sinbad murmured, his hands hooked comfortably around Ja’far’s hips. 

Ja’far chuckled softly, “I knew it.”

Truthfully, this was the first time in a while that Ja’far had been able to spend time with Sinbad like this. Their mission to Balbadd had kept both of them rather preoccupied, and out of respect for poor Masrur, any free time they did have was kept status quo in his company. Ja’far liked to think he had been handling it pretty well, but now that he was close to Sinbad like this, he was filled with such a desperate sense of yearning that he was extremely impressed by his own self-discipline. He could not even fathom how Sinbad had managed it.

When Sinbad leaned down slowly to kiss him, Ja’far’s anticipation almost led him to just grab Sinbad by the hair and tug him down so they could start already. But, then, something indescribably familiar nagged at him in the back of his mind. It was definitely not something good. Rather, it was like a distant, blaring alarm that informed him of something inexplicably dangerous and immediately near. With a start, Ja’far realized what it was: bloodlust. Rather ungracefully, he shoved a hand in Sinbad’s face and pushed his king backwards just as he spotted something metallic hurtle towards them, glinting in the moonlight. Sinbad fell to the ground and Ja’far stood over him, eyes suddenly wide and unfocused. Sinbad was about to snap at Ja’far for the sudden, seemingly uncalled for action, but then he noticed the red stain spreading across Ja’far’s cream robes. 

“Ja’far!?”

Somewhat sluggishly, Ja’far reached down, fumbling against his side until his fingers curled around the hilt of a small steel dagger. He pulled it out without much fanfare and turned to the direction in which the sudden attack had come from. A group of shadowy figures cloaked by the cover of the approaching fog stood there, watching the two of them to analyze the situation. Ja’far held the bloodied dagger in his hand and held it out to them. 

“Are you going to want this back,” Ja’far asked coldly, and Sinbad instantly recognized the cold, hostile way in which he spoke that warned of a much more dangerous side of his usually polite advisor, “or can I keep it?”

The group remained silent. Ja’far’s eyes were slits now, and his posture was in every way indicative of a snake about to strike. His voice continued to remain relatively quiet, but the steely chill in which they were spoken made it completely clear to the enemy facing them.

“Very well,” Ja’far said, tossing the dagger carelessly to the ground, “but that was a poor decision. Because, for attacking my king, I will never forgive you.”

Ja’far’s household vessel flashed through the air like a crack of lightning, which in many ways it actually was. The red wires, buzzing with electricity, coiled around several victims before delivering its deadly shock. The shadows dispersed, spreading out and initiating their own counterattack, but Ja’far seemed not to care. He prepared himself to leap into battle, but a sudden weight closed around his wrist and held him back. He nearly struck out to hit whatever it was that tried to hold him back, but at the last moment he realized that it was Sinbad. 

“Ja’far, stand down,” Sinbad commanded, “you can’t fight in your current condition.”

“Shut up, Sin,” Ja’far growled, tugging against Sinbad’s grip on his arm, “I refuse to allow them to get away with this!”

“I know,” Sinbad replied calmly, “but let me deal with them myself. You’re injured, and fighting will only make it worse.”

Ja’far tried to pull free again, but Sinbad did not relinquish his hold.

“Ja’far.”

Ja’far scowled, but he stopped trying to escape. Instead, he turned his head away to glare furiously at the ground. Sinbad let go of Ja’far’s wrist and his advisor still remained where he was, although rather clearly demonstrating his displeasure.

“Tend to your wound,” Sinbad said simply before drawing the steel sword he had brought with him. It was no djinn, but Sinbad did not need more. His own rage at seeing one of his generals hurt in the line of protecting him was more than enough to deal with these shadowy fiends.

He leapt into battle and struck each opponent down relentlessly. It was clear they were vastly more proficient at silent and long-ranged attacks than they were at close-quarters combat, so Sinbad held a great advantage over them, and one by one they all fell to the might of his sword. Adrenaline was still coursing powerfully through his veins after he struck down the last enemy, but he threw down his blood-drenched sword with finality and returned to Ja’far’s side, who was now sitting on the ground, one bloody hand clasped tightly against his side. His expression made no attempt to hide his pain, but Sinbad was immediately relieved when he heard his advisor speak.

“How dare they interrupt us,” Ja’far hissed between his teeth in both anger and pain, “I was looking forward to that.”

Sinbad knelt down next to Ja’far and chuckled despite himself. He pressed a quick kiss to Ja’far’s lips before pulling away and declaring, “There. That will have to suffice until we can get you back and properly treated.”

In one swift motion, Sinbad scooped Ja’far up into his arms and began to carry him away. Ja’far protested weakly and tried to squirm free, but all the movement only served to agitate his wound, so he gave up and slumped into Sinbad’s grip. It was embarrassing, but he knew Sinbad would never let go, and he was starting to feel dizzy anyways, so it would be pointless to keep resisting. At least he wasn’t cold anymore.


	3. Sparring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ja’far agrees to a sparring match, but things do not go as planned.

“Eh? You want to fight me?”

Ja’far blinked in confusion and looked at the three kids that were staring at him from across his desk. He set the scroll he had previously been reading aside and rubbed the back of his pale neck with an expression of uncertainty. These three had walked in out of the blue while he was busy with work and asked if he would fight them in a sparring session. While he did want to see their fighting skills improve, he also did not trust the country to continue running properly if he did not personally attend to all the documents that had been piling up since his absence. However, he also dreaded disappointing the three kids whom he had grown rather fond of since their arrival in Sindria.

“Please, Mister Ja’far?” The young magi Aladdin asked with wide, sparkling eyes. “Mister Sinbad said you would be a good partner to train with!”

“Indeed…” Ja’far mumbled under his breath, his eyes narrowing a fraction. Leave it to Sinbad to complicate things for him. Even inadvertently, the king was always causing him trouble.

“I really want to practice some of the new techniques my master has taught me!” Alibaba chirped in, noticing the hesitation laced in Ja’far’s tone. 

“I too would like to exercise my skills,” The young Fanalis girl, Morgiana, contributed to their attempts to persuade the parliamentary official.

Under the hopeful and expectant gaze of all three of them, Ja’far had no choice but to give in. With a soft sigh, he pushed back his chair and stood up.

“Very well, I’ll spar with you three.”

The three of them cheered happily at Ja’far’s concession. Well, Alibaba and Aladdin did. Morgiana simply allowed them to grab her hands and bob them up and down as they danced in celebration. Ja’far was left no choice but to follow the three of them out of the palace and to the sparring grounds. He spotted Sharrkan, Masrur and Yamraiha standing together some ways off, but once they spotted him approaching, they broke off from the conversation they were having and waved in greeting. Except Masrur. He merely nodded in acknowledgement.

“Wow,” Sharrkan whistled, “I’m surprised the three of them managed to convince you. That’s something even Sinbad can hardly do!”

Ja’far rolled his eyes impatiently. “His Highness’ requests are typically more unfounded.”

Yamraiha smiled softly in amusement. “At any rate, thank you for coming Ja’far.”

“My pleasure. As thanks, you three can help with some of my work later,” Ja’far smiled back, secretly taking pleasure in the withered looks that appeared on the other generals’ faces. He had to make the most of the situation, after all.

“Can we get started now?” Aladdin asked, staff already in hand. 

Ja’far acquiesced and separated from the other generals. “You three can all come at me together, if you wish. It will prove beneficial to learn to combine your attacks to make them more effective,” Ja’far offered, sliding up the sleeves of his robes to reveal the blood-red wires wrapped around his pale arms. 

“Are you sure?” Alibaba asked nervously. Three against one sounded very one-sided, plus they had a magi on their side as well as close-quarters fighters.

“I may be best suited for surprise attacks, but I can still hold my own you know,” Ja’far replied matter-of-factly. He disliked being underestimated.

Sharrkan called out from the sidelines, “Don’t go easy on him, Alibaba! And remember what I taught you!”

“R-right!” Alibaba seemed reassured by Sharrkan’s support of the arrangement and hastily drew his djinn dagger. 

The two opposing parties backed away until they were an appropriate distance apart. Yamraiha was to give the signal to begin with a burst of magic, but before the fight even started, Ja’far had pushed all frivolous thoughts out of his mind. He focused on observing the three he was about to fight, analyzing their formation and intuiting what their first attack would be. He figured that both Morgiana and Alibaba would rush in to attack him up close, but Aladdin would stay behind to cast covering fire for them. It would be irritating at first, having to deal with the constant distraction of spells from the magi, so Ja’far figured that his best plan of action would be to dispatch the young magician first. He assumed that the Fanalis girl would be the toughest to take down, so he would take care of Alibaba next, and then wear down Morgiana. It sounded like a solid plan in his head, so when Yamraiha finally cast a shower of water to start the fight, Ja’far was calm and unsurprised as Alibaba and Morgiana charged forward to meet him. 

Ja’far tossed his household vessel directly at them, impeding their forward progress and forcing them to turn sharply to avoid his long-ranged attack. With a quick tug of his wrists, he brought the wires around to try and wrap around their legs and trip them up. Morgiana reacted instinctively and quickly, leaping into the air and dodging the attack with ease, but Alibaba was less lucky. He managed to avoid getting entangled, but he still tripped up due to his clumsy evasion. Now Morgiana was bearing down on Ja’far feet-first, so Ja’far was forced to leap out of the way of her attack. However, she seemed to have predicted this, as she changed directions rapidly to pursue Ja’far as he tried to create some distance. Ja’far was impressed by the girl’s agility, but it would not be enough by itself to stop him.

“Halharl Infigar!” 

Ja’far heard the exclamation of the spell being casted before he felt the approaching wave of heat against his skin. At the same time, Morgiana lashed out in a series of precisely aimed kicks, which severely limited Ja’far’s ability to simply dodge out of the way of the incoming spell. He smiled slightly, pleased by their coordination, but of course he would not go down so easily. He leapt into the air and twisted his body to avoid the attacks in a tricky acrobatic maneuver, and landed deftly on his feet a short distance away. There was a large scorch mark where he had just been standing.

“Careful, Aladdin!” Yamraiha called out in worry.

“Its fine,” Ja’far waved off her concern, “that was a good start. But it will take more than that if you want to win.”

“How about this!”

Like a whip, Ja’far spun around and blocked Alibaba’s sudden attack with the blades of his household vessel. The sound of metal clanging together screeched in his ears as he directed the blade of Alibaba’s dagger away from himself. However, Alibaba’s techniques were much sharper and focused than the last time Ja’far had observed him, and he recovered from the block more quickly than he had expected. At the same time, Morgiana charged forward with another flurry of kicks. Ja’far’s eyes narrowed a fraction as he threw his household vessel quickly in the young Fanalis’ direction. The wires coiled around her arm and Ja’far tugged sharply to imbalance her and bring her to the ground. Unfortunately, he had not been anticipating the sharp tug against his wires. Morgiana, despite having being knocked down, was quick to react and attempt to incapacitate Ja’far at the same time that Alibaba was preparing to strike again. It was a disadvantageous situation, but not all together unmanageable. That is, until Ja’far heard Aladdin’s voice shout again.

“Halharl Infigar!”

His original landing trajectory was not on a direct collision course with a large fireball. Ja’far grit his teeth and twisted uncomfortably, his hands brushing against the ground to catapult himself further and away from danger. Unfortunately, he landed awkwardly on his legs, and a sharp pain suddenly cut up his legs. He tried not to show the pain on his face, his mouth contorting into a stiff frown, and instead attempted to focus on the rapidly approaching figure of Alibaba. It would have been an easy attack to dodge, but when he was about to move, that pain shot up his legs again, and he knew he would be too sluggish to dodge properly. He would have to take the blow and admit defeat.

“All right everyone, that’s enough!”

Ja’far’s eye twitched slightly when he recognized the deep voice that had called out to them. Of course, the trio attacking him immediately stopped whatever they were doing and spun around to locate the man who was walking up to them with a smirk on his face. Ja’far hid his scowl and stood up slowly, taking great care to rewrap his wires around his arms before hiding them with his sleeves again.

“Mister Sinbad!” Aladdin chirped happily, “What are you doing here?”

“I came to watch, of course,” Sinbad replied, “it was quite the fight. You three did well.”

“We didn’t manage to win, though…” Alibaba mumbled, staring firmly down at the ground with one hand clenched tightly around his dagger.

“You three are still learning and improving. Ja’far has had years more experience than you is all,” Sinbad told the young prince diplomatically. Alibaba smiled softly at the praise from Sindria’s king.  
“Thank you, Minster Sinbad!” Aladdin exclaimed, his thanks echoed through Morgiana’s nod of her head.

Sinbad grinned at the three of them. “For now, you three should rest for a little while. You don’t want to overwork yourselves. Ja’far?”

The parliamentary advisor mentally cursed. He had hoped to sneak away and back to the palace while Sinbad was distracted with the kids, but it seemed that there was no escaping that man’s perceptive gaze.

“I must return to my work, please excuse me,” Ja’far turned around and offered the explanation with a quick bow. Without waiting for permission, he turned around and continued on his path back to the castle, his footsteps hurried. He did not hear anyone call him back, so he assumed it was fine.

When Ja’far returned to the palace, he walked straight past his office and headed for his room. He threw open the doors quickly, cursing repeatedly under his breath as he foraged around for something among the various supplies littered around his room. The sharp pain still pricked up his legs, a constant and irritating reminder that Ja’far wished he could ignore. Unfortunately, he really could not.  
“Damn, where is it?” Ja’far grumbled to himself in frustration. He had started sifting through the piles of scrolls littered across his personal desk. 

“What are you looking for?”

Ja’far froze in his search and straightened his back. He should have known this would happen. He had been too careless in his rushed state. Sinbad was leaning against his open doorway and staring at Ja’far with a certain expression on his face that Ja’far always hated to see. It was a knowing expression, reserved for the rare occasions in which he found Ja’far in a predicament he would have otherwise preferred to keep private. 

“Nothing,” Ja’far immediately denied as Sinbad sauntered into the room, ever closer to him. “Just a tax report I think I left in here.”

“Right,” Sinbad did not even bother trying to deny Ja’far’s words. He just stepped closer and closer until Ja’far was forced to angle his head up to look at his king in the eyes. As much as Ja’far wished he could get a bit more space between the two of them, he refused to back down in the face of Sinbad’s intimidation. He merely frowned in displeasure and tried to ignore what Sinbad was obviously trying to do.

“Yes,” Ja’far carried on, acting as if nothing was happening, “so either help me look for it or get out.”

“Sure,” Sinbad agreed easily. Ja’far bristled at the tone.

A brief moment of silence passed in which Ja’far shuffled through some of the scrolls on his desk, pretending to look for the tax report whose existence he had made up. All the while, he was aware of Sinbad next to him, shuffling through his own stack of scrolls, glancing at him every so often out of the corner of his eye. Ja’far had to stifle a wince as the pain shot up his legs again.

“I can’t find it, Ja’far,” Sinbad eventually spoke to break the stubborn silence.

Without looking up, Ja’far replied, “Keep looking.”

“You’re hurt, Ja’far. I know it.”

And just like that all of their precariously constructed pretense fell away. Ja’far stiffened as Sinbad reached out and grabbed Ja’far by the wrist. He was surprisingly gentle despite the intense look in his golden eyes. Ja’far had to try very hard not to look away.

“Just let me see,” Sinbad pleaded softly, “I want to help you.”

“It’s nothing,” Ja’far grumbled, trying only half-heartedly to pull away from Sinbad’s grip.

Sinbad took that as an indication that he could go ahead. He rested his other hand on Ja’far’s shoulder and gently pushed his advisor down onto the chair by the desk. He then knelt down in front of Ja’far and, taking hold of one of Ja’far’s legs, slowly pulled up his robes. Ja’far just looked away as he felt the air assault his bare thighs, twinging in annoyance at the sharp breath that Sinbad drew. 

“It’s nothing,” Ja’far repeated stubbornly, “just my old scars acting up again.”

“Ja’far, that’s not nothing,” Sinbad mumbled, but his voice had lost most of its bite. Instead, it was replaced by a kind of distant sadness, as Sinbad fully took in the sight of the injury.

Along the length of Ja’far’s inner thighs, blood trickled out from the reopened stitching of two long scars that stood out noticeably from Ja’far’s pale skin. Sinbad sighed and released Ja’far’s leg so he could stand up. He made his way to Ja’far’s bathroom and came back a few moments later with a cloth and a handful of bandages. He knelt back down in front of Ja’far and began to slowly wipe away the blood from the injury, being careful not to agitate the wounds any further. Then, he wrapped them with bandages and tossed the excess materials to the side. Ja’far had not said a word the entire time, figuring it was in his best interest to just let Sinbad do whatever he wanted, lest he face the doting king’s wrath. However, the soft peck on his lips was a nice surprise. Sinbad pulled away and stood up fully. He shook his head as if chiding his advisor, but Ja’far could see the small smile on his king’s face.

“You’ll have to go and get them properly fixed later,” Sinbad told him, “but this should do for now. No more sparring for you.”

“Sin, I’m fine. Honestly, this is nothing,” Ja’far tried to protest, dreading having to deny those three kids again if it came to that.

Sinbad folded his arms across his chest and shook his head firmly. “It’s never nothing when it comes to you, Ja’far. No more fighting, at least for now. King’s orders.”

Ja’far rolled his eyes, but he knew there was no getting out of this. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

Sinbad’s face lit up into a brilliant smile once again. Honestly, Ja’far did not know why he bothered sometimes. But then again, the memory of Sinbad’s fingers tenderly brushing his skin and Sinbad’s lips against his own was all Ja’far needed to remember why.


	4. Blood Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ja’far has taken to nightly strolls about the palace. One night, it ends poorly.

Most people are afraid of the dark. The shadows represent an unnerving sense of uncertainty, of something lurking beyond the extent of human awareness. It represents that which cannot be seen, and what cannot be seen can be hard to understand, and much harder to accept. Every night was a firm reminder of this weakness of the human conscience, and so most people feared the dark and what it brought with it. Ja’far was not one of these people.

Ja’far had always been more comfortable treading in the world of the shadows. He used to work almost exclusively under the veil of night, and he took comfort in being unseen and unable to be comprehended. Even on a purely physical level, the light easily irritated his pale skin, so he preferred to keep shaded anyways. Because of all this, Ja’far had developed a rather uncanny ability to see in the dark. Whereas most people preferred to retreat inside when the moon rose, casting its faint and eerie glow upon the earth, Ja’far always felt reinvigorated by it. He had developed a habit of taking a refreshing walk around the palace during the night before retiring to bed. It was simply instinct by this point.

Most of the palace workers were in bed when Ja’far took his nightly stroll, so he was used to the silence and inactivity that accompanied it. The palace felt like a different place a night when the sun’s glow ceased to illuminate the marble structures and radiant décor. It felt otherworldly, like a land hidden from view, unconquered by humanity. It was not the same lively Sindria that his king had founded. But Ja’far did not mind. Even this unknown aspect was a part of the kingdom, a treasured part of his home. He valued it as equally as the daytime, and would protect it with the same determination.

On one such night, Ja’far was walking in silence through the halls that housed Sinbad’s room. Ja’far had not consciously decided to walk that way, but a subconscious part of him had guided him in that direction. By the time Ja’far realized where he was, he nearly turned around on the spot. It was late at night, but that had never stopped Sinbad’s trysts with women. Ja’far could still vividly remember the last time he had walked past Sinbad’s room in the dead of the night, only to hear with incomparable clarity the sound of women giggling and whispering in hushed, excited voices. Sinbad’s low voice in reply had struck a chord inside Ja’far, and it took most of his willpower to stop himself from barging into the room and chasing the women out. It was not his business was his king did in his free time at night, as long as during the light of day Sinbad did his work like everyone else. Ja’far had simply clenched his jaw and was forced to accept the privacy that night should afford a person such as his king.

This night, however, was not like that. It was quiet, no women to be found. Ja’far supposed that Sinbad was probably asleep. The man seemed to need more of it than was healthy. It was a refreshing thing to behold, his king resting properly instead of staying up late drinking or entertaining… guests. Ja’far, quiet as ever, snuck up to the closed doors and pressed his ear against it. He could hear the sound of slow, steady breathing from within, which indicated that Sinbad was indeed asleep. A small smile curled upwards on Ja’far’s face. He had seen Sinbad asleep many times before, but it was never enough to satisfy him. Sinbad always looked so endearing while lost within his dreams. Ja’far was always fascinated whenever Sinbad would have particularly vivid dreams, because a tiny frown would appear on his king’s countenance and he would usually try to mutter something under his breath or reach out to grab something. There was something strangely innocent and child-like about the expressions and gestures his king made in his sleep. Ja’far knew it was a bit strange, and his king would never let go if he woke up, but the advisor really wanted to see Sinbad asleep. So, trying to be as quiet as possible, he pushed open the door to the room and peaked his head in.

His eyes were immediately directed towards the bed, where he could see the figure of his king fast asleep. His purple hair was sprawled across the pillows and the sheets were in disarray. It would have been an entertaining sight, had Ja’far not spotted something unusual standing next to Sinbad’s bed. It was dark, but Ja’far could see it clearly. His heart nearly stopped in his chest.

A figure was looming over Sinbad’s bed. Whoever it was, they were dressed head to toe in dark, navy blue cloth. There was only a single slit by the eyes for the person to see out of. In one of their gloved hands they held a small, metal dagger. It was purposefully crafted to be crooked and jagged, like it was designed to tear indiscriminately through flesh and cause pain rather than swiftly puncture the heart and end a life. Terror washed over Ja’far, but years of experience kept him moving despite the fear.

“Sin!”

Ja’far threw open the door and grasped his household vessel tightly in his hands. The figure startled, but still it was too late. The figure drove the weapon down into the sleeping king’s flesh. There was no mistaking the sound it made as it tore through the skin and muscles, nor was there any mistaking the crimson splatter that immediately accompanied the attack. Sinbad jolted awake as if he had been electrocuted and a pained shout escaped his lips. Ja’far shouted again and sent his weapons flying to ensnare the figure, but they nimbly dodged and jumped out through the window, leaving their weapon still impaled within Sinbad. Ja’far’s eyes clouded with adrenaline-fueled rage, and he had half a mind to chase after whoever had dared to strike his king, but the pained gasp from the bed brought him back to reality, where there were far more important things to worry about.

“Sin! Are you all right?”

Sinbad groaned from his position on the bed and attempted to bring his hand up to the dagger still stuck in his flesh. It had carved a gaping wound in his side, but Ja’far could tell instantly it was not a lethal blow by nature. The assassin had clearly missed the mark when he was startled by Ja’far’s sudden arrival. Still, there was a lot of blood, and without treatment Sinbad would die anyways, only much more painfully and slowly. Ja’far knelt down by the side of Sinbad’s bed and grabbed Sinbad’s hand to stop him.

“Sin, leave it be until we can get a healer, otherwise you’ll lose too much blood,” Ja’far strained to keep his voice calm. He felt like a small part of himself was breaking with every drop of blood that spilled onto the stained white sheets, but Sinbad needed him now. He could not fall apart.

“Ja’far,” Sinbad breathed, his eyes fluttering and his gaze fixed blankly on his own wound. “Why were you lurking outside my room?”

Ja’far felt his face heat up at the whispered question. He would have hit Sinbad if the man was not bleeding out on the bed. Then again, it would dispose of the only witness to his embarrassment…  
“Sir Ja’far! What happened?” A palace guard suddenly appeared at the doors to Sinbad’s room, and Ja’far hurriedly schooled his expression.

“Summon Yamraiha,” Ja’far commanded without taking his eyes off Sinbad. “Quickly.”

The guard’s face paled when he saw the blood that now covered Ja’far’s clothes and hands. He left in a hurry to find the magician while Ja’far just continued to hold onto Sinbad’s hand.   
“Don’t you dare die on me, Sin,” Ja’far mumbled in a quiet voice. He tipped his chin down to try and hide his tear-streaked cheeks.

Sinbad tried to chuckle but stopped almost immediately. He settled for squeezing Ja’far’s hand reassuringly. “I’m not going to die, Ja’far.”

Ja’far bit his bottom lip and stifled a sob. His chest ached and he knew he was probably hurting Sinbad’s hand from holding onto it so tightly, but he could not help it. He had never been so afraid of the dark before. Yamraiha arrived soon after, panting heavily from having to run so far. Ja’far told her what was wrong in a detached voice and watched as she began to cast her healing magic on Sinbad. Ja’far just wanted the sun to rise on this horrible night.


	5. Bad Habit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Young Sinbad develops a bad habit while stuck on a boat.

Sinbad loved adventure. He loved sailing the open oceans with the wind blowing through his long purple hair and the salty spray of the sea tickling his cheeks. He loved meeting new and interesting people and exploring new lands with them. He loved the thrill of fighting new and challenging opponents, proving his strength with both his mind and his combat finesse. He loved experiencing the vast, wide world that stretched forth in every direction with mysteries begging to be unraveled. He wanted to understand all of it, to unite it under one domain so that everyone in it could coexist together in peace, and in order to do so he would have to see as much of it as he possibly could. And that was precisely the problem.

Sinbad was trapped. The walls around him formed an inescapable prison, and everywhere he looked it was the same. It was driving him mad, seeing the same walls day after day. Even when he stumbled through the narrow corridors to see the sunlight, the view in every direction was exactly the same; an endless expanse of rolling blue met overhead by an endless expanse of scattered white. Sinbad loved sailing. But he had never felt so trapped on a boat before in his life.

He was seriously considering just jumping overboard and swimming all the way to their destination, if only to escape the wooden prison that was the boat they had set sail on from Imchukk. Quite possibly the only redemptive feature of being on this boat was that they had finally made it into warmer waters, so Sinbad no longer had to fear turning into a human icicle. But that was seriously the only upside that he could think of. Otherwise, it was claustrophobic, uneventful, and full of people who were out for his blood.

Yes, Sinbad was convinced that his supposed “allies” were truly out to get him. Hinahoho, ever the deceptively gentle giant, still harbored a bit of a grudge against Sinbad for stealing his Rampaging Unicorn kill, and this made Sinbad somewhat suspicious of the kindness and loyalty the larger man kept showing him. Then, of course, there was Ja’far, who quite literally _had_ been out for his blood until only a couple days ago, and there was also that looming threat that if things ever got boring Ja’far would not hesitate to actually kill him. And if this voyage was not boring then Sinbad did not know what was, so he was suspicious of Ja’far too. Vittel, however nice he seemed, was a bit scatterbrained sometimes, so even if Sinbad was not immediately suspicious of him, there was always the possibility of inadvertently being killed by the ex-assassin anyways. And Mahad, though seemingly friendly, was also unnervingly quiet and Sinbad always felt like the guy was watching him, so he was definitely suspicious of him too. But, of course, the most terrifying figure that lurked aboard the ship was none other than Rurumu. All of her lessons and instruction would definitely kill him if none of the others managed to succeed before then. So, all in all, the ship was laced with a subtle vibe that seemed to long for Sinbad’s blood, and consequently Sinbad had been trying to play it safe for the past couple of weeks.

Unfortunately, that was becoming unbearably boring. His new companions, while all dangerous in their own unique ways, were also fascinating people. He wanted to learn about where they came from, and what made them the people they were today. He wanted to learn about their hopes and dreams and aspirations, and figure out how they could all work together to accomplish their common goal. And, most importantly of all, he really just wanted to mess with them a bit.

It had started off as an honest mistake. An accident, really. Sinbad, frustrated by the lack of action, had been wandering around the boat at a rather early hour in the morning, trying to shake the restlessness from his legs. He had turned down one of the darker corridors to try and reach the upper deck when, purely by mistake, he happened to run into someone who promptly proceeded to scream in terror and attempt to hit him. Sinbad managed to dodge the attack, only to come face to face with a wide-eyed Vittel. The look on Vittel’s face was what really set Sinbad over the edge. He had to lean against the wall to support him as he laughed, and poor Vittel could only gape at him like a fish, which really only made Sinbad laugh harder. After that incident, Sinbad had developed this bad habit of his.

He told himself he was just curious how each of his companions would react if he tried to scare them. He worked through the list methodically, and the results were certainly intriguing. However, when he reached the last name on the list, he ran into a bit of trouble. Ja’far reacted unlike anyone else on the ship. Everyone else had at least displayed some degree of surprise, usually followed closely by embarrassment or anger, but Ja’far was different. Ja’far had no reaction whatsoever. He merely stared at Sinbad with dead, unamused eyes, before he turned his back on the to-be king and walked away. Sinbad had sworn he was merely curious, but from that moment on, it had become personal. In order to preserve his sanity (and his dignity) aboard this forsaken boat, he would do whatever it took to get a reaction out of Ja’far. It was his ultimate quest.

Sinbad’s first plan of attack was simple. He would wait for Ja’far to open the door to his cabin early in the morning and jump out at him. It was not the most creative plan he had ever made, but he figured there was no need to make it overly complex. So, there he was, listening to the creaking groans of the hull of the ship as he lurked in the fading darkness outside Ja’far’s door. His muscles twitched with barely contained anticipation. Then, the door swung open and Sinbad reacted almost instantly, leaping forward to throw himself in Ja’far’s path.

“Good morning, Sin,” Ja’far smiled pleasantly up and him and Sinbad screamed. He lost his footing and fell face-first, ungracefully, onto the floor right in front of Ja’far’s feet.

Sinbad had forgotten—or rather, he was hardly used to—this new version of Ja’far that was being trained by Rurumu. Ja’far was dressed in normal clothes, for one thing, and his face was no longer obscured by cloth wrappings, so Sinbad could very clearly see those cute little freckles that were splashed across a surprisingly youthful face. Ja’far’s smile was also alarmingly disarming, and worked well with his innocent and young appearance to make Ja’far come across as a genuinely normal, pleasant boy. But of course, Ja’far’s eyes spoke volumes where his newly polished words did not. Despite the polite smile, Ja’far’s eyes were narrowed into steely slits that very clearly implied what Ja’far was really feeling, and this discrepancy was what really terrified Sinbad. Ja’far was quite possibly even more deceptive than he himself was.

“Are you all right?” Ja’far glared down at Sinbad with a concerned frown plastered across his face. His eyes, however, screamed murder.

Sinbad was quick to push himself back onto his feet, making distance between himself and Ja’far as quickly as possible. With a nervous chuckle he replied, “I’m fine! Perfectly fine! Anyways, I have things to do, so see you around Ja’far!”

Sinbad ran off hurriedly down the corridor, not ceasing until he made it safely back to his own cabin. Part of him was still terrified, but the louder, more foolish part of him was merely disappointed. He had not managed to scare Ja’far in the slightest. He would definitely have to come up with a better plan for next time. Clearly, Ja’far was not one to be startled by feeble jump scares. No, Sinbad would have to be much cleverer about this. Later in the morning, when Sinbad finally left his room, there was a sinister smile on his face from his ingenious scheming, and poor Vittel had the misfortunate of overhearing the young man’s villainous chuckle. The ex-assassin was sure that, for whoever’s misfortunate that chuckle was directed towards, it would not bode well for them. He just hoped it was not himself.

 

* * *

 

 

It had become customary, under Rurumu’s dictation, that the six of them were to eat dinner together each night. Sinbad did not mind this rule, as he actually quite enjoyed spending time with the others, but everyone was very aware of how much Ja’far hated it, mostly because it involved Rurumu chastising him for his table manners constantly, Hinahoho always pointing out how he needed to eat more or he would remain tiny forever, and Sinbad just in general being annoying. This evening in particular, however, was even worse than usual.

Ja’far had been suspicious of Sinbad ever since the young man had tried to startle him the first time, and his suspicions only grew when he discovered Sinbad lurking outside his room earlier in the morning. Ja’far had heard from the others, mostly because they had all been complaining about it when Sinbad was not around, that their to-be king had developed a rather poor habit of trying to scare everyone lately. Ja’far was quick to figure out that Sinbad would not stop until he had struck everyone onboard the ship, and so it was inevitable that Sinbad would try to get Ja’far as well. Ja’far was not sure whether to find it amusing or annoying, but since he had decided to really practice his manners under Rurumu’s guidance, it was grating his nerves that he could not lash out at Sinbad like he would have preferred to. He respected the young man, sure, but the guy was also an idiot and had been doing weird things ever since Ja’far had decided to follow him. Namely, Sinbad always seemed so personal, wanting to get to know Ja’far better, claiming he wanted to _understand_ him more. Ja’far always scoffed at the foolish notion, as there really was nothing for Sinbad to understand, but Sinbad was incredibly persistent about it. Not only that, but Sinbad was weirdly affectionate as well, always doing strange gestures like ruffling Ja’far’s exposed hair or patting him on the back. But whenever Ja’far tensed at these displays, Sinbad seemed not to notice, like it was just an off-handed thing he did instinctually without even realizing it. It irked Ja’far for some reason that Sinbad was so nonchalant about it all.

At any rate, Ja’far was in a poor mood during this particular evening’s meal. Sinbad had been acting especially weird and annoying, what with the whole scaring thing, and Ja’far was trying really hard to maintain his composure so Rurumu would not spend hours scolding him again. He was sure there was a near-permanent bump on his head at this point from all the times she had karate-chopped his brains. The woman was relentless, even more so than Sinbad. So, he decided it was best to just eat his food in silence, going just slow enough for Rurumu not to criticize him, and slip out as soon as he could. Unfortunately, it seemed Sinbad had other intentions for the evening.

“I heard a really interesting tale once during my travels,” Sinbad said conversationally as the meal was winding to an end.

“What about?” Hinahoho asked, playing straight into Sinbad’s hand.

“It was rather uncanny,” Sinbad proceeded with a grin, “but something that happened to me today reminded me of it.”

“Today?” Vittel’s curiosity was piqued at this comment and he turned an inquisitive expression towards Sinbad.

Sinbad nodded, “That’s right. There was a story once, that a band of murderers and thieves once set sail in these waters in hopes of plundering a peaceful town for its recent wealth. However, there was a shaman figure who lived in the town who foresaw the arrival of their ship and placed a curse upon it, so that if it entered the waters around the town, everyone on board would die. A few days later, their ship appeared on the horizon, but upon following the shaman’s instructions to go out and board it, they found that everyone on board had died, their throats all slit open. The ship itself, however, was unharmed and eventually traded off to make a profit, but they say it is still cursed, and every crew that has tried to sail it through these waters has died in a similar fashion. I just thought of it because I wasn’t sure where this ship came from, and we are in the area this story takes place in, after all.”

There was a long silence following the end of Sinbad’s tale, before Hinahoho finally spoke up. “Was that an attempt at a ghost story?” The Imchukk warrior asked with a frown.

Sinbad chuckled and rubbed his neck sheepishly, “I guess? I’m not sure if it’s true or not, it just came to mind is all.”

“You shouldn’t say such things so carelessly,” Rurumu chided Sinbad, “you scared poor Vittel half to death.”

Vittel shook his head furiously, but everyone could clearly see how pale he was. “I wasn’t scared!”

“Sorry Vittel,” Sinbad apologized with a small smile, “I suppose I spoke without thinking.”

“That’s a first,” Ja’far muttered sarcastically under his breath, though of course loud enough for Sinbad to hear him.

“Hey!” Sinbad protested, “I think before speaking plenty of the time!”

“Whatever,” Ja’far rolled his eyes, “I’m leaving now.”

Before anyone could protest, Ja’far had slipped out of the room like a snake. Sinbad watched the boy leave with a ghost of a smile on his face that worried the others still seated around the table.

“I think I’ll take my leave now too,” Sinbad declared, and he quickly left through the same door Ja’far had. Everyone else who remained knew better than to think Sinbad had told that story without a reason, and they quite frankly wanted nothing to do with it. Sinbad would definitely get what was coming to him, it was only a matter of time.

 

* * *

 

 

Ja’far was careful to avoid all other human contact for the rest of the evening. He bathed quickly and skirted through the most infrequently visited corridors of the ship, all senses alert in order to detect the presence of another person. The day had been very taxing on his patience, and he wanted nothing more than to be alone for a while. He found that once darkness had settled upon the ship the stern of the boat was hardly ever visited, which allowed for the privacy he needed.

The darkness had no effect on Ja’far, as he had been trained to see regardless, but there was still something soothing in knowing that, to everyone else, he would be difficult to see. There was a gentle but deeply chilling wind that stirred the air and ruffled his hair. He was still getting used to the sensation of the wind blowing against his totally exposed face and the feel of his new clothes against his scarred skin. It was distinctly unfamiliar to him, he mused as he tugged mindlessly at the fabric with his fingers, but not altogether unpleasant. As much as he hated to admit it, especially out loud, travelling with Sinbad had actually been pretty nice. The guy may get on his nerves sometimes, but he had also offered him a home and treated him with unconditional respect like no others had. It made him almost… happy, which was something he could not recall feeling for a very long time. Sinbad really wasn’t a bad guy…

“Aha! I found you!”

_Speak of the devil and he shall appear_ , Ja’far thought to himself with a twinge of annoyance. Turning around, he could see the figure of Sinbad approaching him and wondered if he had been searching for very long. All soft sentiments for the young man faded away when Ja’far remembered why he was outside in the first place and the events that had led up to this moment.

“What the fuck do you want?” Ja’far grumbled impatiently.

“Manners, Ja’far,” Sinbad chided with a very poor impression of Rurumu’s voice that the woman would no doubt be displeased with, but he nonetheless answered the question anyways. “I just wanted to check on you is all.”

“Well I’m fine, so scram,” Ja’far gestured as if to shoo Sinbad away, but the frown on the young man’s face clearly indicated that he would not be leaving so easily.

“What are you doing outside during the night? It’s going to get cold soon,” Sinbad approached Ja’far casually as if the young assassin had extended him a friendly invitation to join him, which he most certainly had not done.

Ja’far prickled as Sinbad got closer and scowled when he replied, “It’s none of your business.”

“Of course it is! I have to make sure my friends are all right.”

The beaming smile on Sinbad’s face made Ja’far’s stomach flip, though he was not sure if it was because of disgust or not. It was oddly pleasant for a feeling of disgust, but what else but disgust was he supposed to feel with someone grinning at him so stupidly?

“You can stop pretending,” Ja’far gave up on trying to get rid of Sinbad and heaved a sigh. “I know you’re just checking to see if your stupid ghost story worked to scare me. Which it didn’t, by the way.”

“I’m hurt that you would think my intentions were as shallow as that,” Sinbad placed a hand dramatically over his heart. Ja’far just glared at him.

“…You weren’t even the least bit unsettled?” Sinbad asked hopefully. Ja’far shook his head. “Damn…”

Any other time and Ja’far would have hit Sinbad or something, but at this particular moment, probably due to his sentimental musings, Ja’far was feeling merciful.

“You should just give up now, it won’t work. I forgot what fear was a long time ago.”

With that, Ja’far made a swift retreat to his cabin. Sinbad did not bother to try and stop Ja’far from leaving, and he was fairly sure he would not be able to stop the kid even if he tried to. Instead, he stood outside by himself for a bit, thinking about the conversation. Ja’far had obviously meant his last statement to discourage Sinbad, and in a sense it had. Sinbad figured petty prank scares would do no good against Ja’far, but now he had bigger things to deal with. There was not a person alive who was not afraid of at least _something_ , and while Ja’far may try to deny it, Sinbad was certain there was some kind of fear deep in his heart. He wanted to find out what that fear was, because knowing your allies’ fears was an important part of being able to support their weak spots. He did not want to let Ja’far down when the boy eventually needed him.

"Just you wait, Ja'far," Sinbad declared to the starry night sky, "I'll get you to like me yet."


	6. Creative Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sinbad enjoys spoiling Ja’far, and he gets very creative in order to do so.

Ja'far was a man of few possessions. His two most cherished items, his Sindrian uniform and his household vessel, were the only things he really cared about. They were almost always on his person. The uniform only came off to wash it or to sleep; the household vessel never came off at all. In all other cases, however, Ja'far was thoroughly unattached to physical objects. Consequently, Sinbad had been required to learn to get creative whenever he wanted to spoil his advisor. And he liked to do so often.

It had started off as simple things. At first, it was Sinbad getting up early in the morning before the sun had even risen and doing all of Ja'far's work. When the advisor woke up, Sinbad would be waiting for him, scrolls tucked under one arm and a cup of tea in the other. He'd spend the rest of the day doting on Ja'far, pampering him with massages and peppering him with kisses. Ja'far had never gotten over how much these gestures made him blush.

Later on, Sinbad had wanted to do more. He even roped his djinns into helping—Zepar had perhaps gone overboard. Still, he and Ja'far had enjoyed having the entirety of the palace to themselves for the whole day, even with all the sleeping bodies scattered about.

However, Sinbad's personal favorite time had been after he had nagged Yamraiha for weeks to perform a very specific spell. At first she had refused, telling him that magic should not be used for such things, but after weeks of his constant pestering, she had finally snapped and agreed to it. He had led Ja'far to the throne room then, after making sure his advisor promised not to open his eyes until he told him to, and watched in amusement at how wide Ja'far's eyes had gotten. Yamraiha had spent hours manipulating the rukh until they blended together in such a way as to create a breathtaking illusion of the starry night sky, complete with an aurora borealis effect that would have put the original to shame. Sinbad spent that night kissing Ja'far beneath such a view.

Now, it was time once again for Sinbad to come up with something. It had been busy for Sindria lately, and as a result Ja'far had been holed up in his office for most of the week. He had been slipping into the king's bed later and later at night, and most of the time he was gone long before Sinbad woke up. Even further, every time that Sinbad had tried to visit Ja'far in his office, he had been promptly shooed away, and not even by Ja'far for that matter. Ja'far's underlings, as Sinbad sometimes called them out of bitterness, had been given strict orders not to let him in. Indeed, it was time to take action.

Unfortunately, creativity had one fatal flaw. And that was that being creative required creative ideas, and sometimes those were hard to come by. Sinbad had spent hours now, pacing about the palace, trying to think of the perfect thing to do to surprise Ja'far. His advisor would probably kill him if he pulled another stunt like the Zepar incident right now, so he would have to be a bit more considerate with his plans. He wanted to make Ja'far happy, not stress him out and have him out for his blood. Sadly, no appealing _and_ reasonable ideas came to his mind. Sinbad groaned and banged his hand against a wall in frustration.

A knock at his door snapped Sinbad out of his fruitless daydreaming. When it was pushed open, the expressionless face of Masrur greeted him. There were scrolls in his hands. _More_ of them. It was never ending.

"From Ja'far," Masrur explained simply as he dropped them onto Sinbad's desk.

"Thanks, Masrur..." Sinbad replied absentmindedly. With that, Masrur turned to leave. He was almost out the door when a sudden wave of inspiration struck Sinbad and he called the Fanalis back. "Masrur, you've seen Ja'far today, correct?"

Masrur merely nodded. A grin crept onto Sinbad's face, and if the man was not his king, Masrur would have turned around and left, because judging by that expression, his king was plotting something foolish.

"Masrur, I'm going to need you to do something for me."

 

* * *

 

 

When Sinbad set his mind to something, he could work very quickly. The trap was laid and he had set his plan into motion. All that was left to do now was to watch it orchestrate itself and reap the benefits. Masrur had left ten minutes ago for Ja'far's office, and with any luck he would be returning shortly, grumpy advisor in tow. Then it was up to Hinahoho and Pisti (whom he had also roped into the scheme) to execute phase two.

"They're coming!"

Sharrkan hissed urgently as he scurried into the room where the three were lying in wait. Sinbad had also involved him, of course. At the news, Hinahoho and Pisti got into position, and Sinbad made himself scarce. Waiting for him outside the window was one of Pisti's tamed creatures. He mounted it quickly and took off into the air. Time to reap the benefits.

 

* * *

 

 

"Masrur, where on earth are we going?" Ja'far asked impatiently as they turned down yet another corridor. He had been reluctant to follow after the man anyways, but now it was getting ridiculous.

A few minutes ago, Masrur had entered Ja'far's office and told him that his presence was requested for a meeting. Ja'far had not realized there was any meeting going on at the time, and he also had quite a large pile of work to finish, but nonetheless he had acquiesced and followed Masrur out. But now he was beginning to wonder if this supposed meeting really was going on. And of course, Masrur kept refusing to answer him. Ja'far had half a mind to just turn around and return to his office.

However, before he could do so, Masrur had stopped in front of a rather nondescript door. "Here."

Ja'far glanced at the door and then at Masrur with a dubious expression, but the Fanalis was stoic as always. With a sigh, Ja'far just decided to get whatever this was over with. So, he grabbed hold of the door handle and swung the door open. As soon as he crossed over the threshold, the effect was instantaneous. Someone grabbed him by the arms from behind and scooped him up with ease.

"H-hey!" Ja'far trashed in the person's grip, but it was no use. Whoever they were, they were much larger and much stronger than Ja'far. He was brought to the open window and a sudden fear gripped his heart. Were they going to try and toss him out of it? "What are you doing!?"

"Sorry, Ja'far," The person holding him finally spoke. Ja'far recognized it instantly as the voice of Hinahoho, and that was when he knew what was going on. He had been set up from the very beginning. He knew he should not have followed Masrur.

Hinahoho tossed Ja'far easily out of the open window, but before he could fall very far, he landed on something solid and feathery. He quickly sat up and looked around, only to see the ground shrinking beneath him as he ascended into the sky. Pisti was in front of him, grinning at him with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

"Hi Ja'far!"

"Pisti, let me down this instant," Ja'far demanded with all the authority he could muster. Unfortunately, he had already anticipated her answer.

"No can do! I'm just following orders here."

Ja'far's shoulders slumped. He knew it. This was all a part of that man's elaborate plan. Ja'far still had no clue where he was going, but he was positive of who was waiting for him there. All that was left to do was to decide how slowly to kill him.

They flew through the evening air for a few minutes before Pisti finally came to a halt at the top of a mountain peak. She brought their mount down to the ground and Ja'far knew that meant it was time for him to get off. With a wink and a final farewell, Pisti flew off, effectively stranding him there on top of the mountain.

"How was the ride?"

Ja'far was not surprised at all to hear his king's voice from behind him. He refused to turn around and greet Sinbad, electing to stare off towards the horizon, where the sun was setting in the sky.

"Do you know how difficult it was to convince everyone to help me with this plan?" Sinbad continued, not put off at all by Ja'far's attitude.

"Probably not very," Ja'far muttered in reply. He could hear Sinbad's chuckle close behind him.

"Ok, you got me there. They were actually pretty enthusiastic about it. Even Masrur was easier to convince than I expected. Isn't that nice, though?"

"No," Ja'far denied flatly. He refused to support their scheming.

There was a sudden pair of arms wrapped around Ja'far's waist. Sinbad rested his chin on top of Ja'far's shoulder and Ja'far could see his king's amused expression clear as day out of his peripheral vision. Ja'far just huffed and crossed his arms, blood red wires peaking out from under his sleeves.

"You need to take some time to relax, Ja'far," Sinbad said, his breath tickling against the skin of Ja'far's neck. "Besides, I've missed you this week."

Ja'far rolled his eyes. "There is a kingdom to run, you know."

"It can take care of itself for one night," Sinbad mumbled and pressed a kiss against Ja'far's neck, "stop being such a fretful mother over it."

"And I suppose that makes you the father? How convenient."

Ja'far could feel Sinbad's grin. "That's right. So let me spend some time with my wife?"

Ja'far scoffed and pulled out of Sinbad's grip. Sinbad was looking at him with wide, pleading eyes. "Fine."

The grin that split across Sinbad's face was bright enough to blind the sun. He took Ja'far's hands in his and led him around the side of the mountain peak so they were facing out to the ocean. The sunset was a vivid shade by now, streaking the sky with an array of warm hues that reflected itself in the ocean waters. Ja'far had to admit it was a beautiful sight, made even more enjoyable by the refreshing scent of the sea and the warm body close to him. It was... Nice.

"The show is about to start," Sinbad declared mysteriously. Ja'far furrowed his brows. What show could there possibly be besides the beautiful scenery in front of him?

He was not left to wonder for long. In the sky, a formation of Pisti's trained birds flew through the air. They travelled in sweeping arches, occasionally diving down to dip their talons in the ocean and spray some of the water upwards, where it glittered in the fading sunlight. Stray fallen feathers floated about lazily in the air, drifting around them as the birds got closer. It was serene to watch, seeing such carefree and elegant creatures perform in the sky, where they were at their finest. Ja'far unconsciously leaned against Sinbad's shoulders as he watched, losing himself in the soothing motions of the beautiful creatures.

Sinbad smiled down at his advisor, wrapped one arm around Ja'far, and placed a kiss on top of the man's head. He could feel the tension dissolving from his muscles as he leaned in closer. The birds let out a soft cry of delight in the distance.

"Thank you, Sin," Ja'far said quietly, "I wish I could do something for you as well."

Sinbad chuckled softly. "Be mine, Ja'far. That has always been more than enough."


	7. Long Distance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ja’far misses Sinbad terribly when he leaves for the Kou Empire.

When Sinbad left by ship for the Kou Empire, Ja’far thought he would be fine. After being away in Balbadd, he had returned to a mountain of piled up work and some extremely sheepish generals. With Sinbad gone, Ja’far would have plenty of time to catch up on all of this paperwork and get the affairs of the country in order. Sure, Sinbad would be away for a while, but Ja’far would probably be too busy to pay it much mind. Ja’far was positive that it would be fine.

The first day was indeed fine. Ja’far woke up at his usual time, just when the sun’s rays were reaching out to touch the world. The palace was quiet, but that was only to be expected considering how early in the morning it was. He settled down at his desk, quill in hand, and selected a fairly important diplomatic letter that required immediate attention as his first document to work on. He stopped working for a brief time around noon in order to eat and track down some of the generals to remind them that it was no longer an option to slack off now that he was back. Pisti tried to hide from him but he dealt with her swiftly, leaving her buried under a pile of heavy scrolls.  Then he returned to his desk and continued to work. He dined in so that he could finish reading through a tax report, scribbling down some notes to remind himself of important things to bring up at the next meeting. Some of the generals decided to go out drinking and sent Sharkkan to invite him to join, but Ja’far crisply refused, pointing vaguely to the rest of the work he had to do as his justification. Sharkkan teased him for a bit, but most of his words fell on deaf ears, and the swordsman eventually left. A little while later, Ja’far decided to stretch and took a walk through the dark palace grounds, embracing the cool night air against his pale skin. Then, he retired to his quarters for sleep. As he lay on the bed with his eyes closed, he caught himself listening for sounds that were not there, like that of a person’s steady breathing. Silence was his only companion, and he was vaguely aware of a strange ache in his chest. He convinced himself it was merely the first day, and that the feeling would go away once he got used to it. Things were going to be fine.

The following days were more or less still fine. He continued the same routine almost mechanically, the monotony only somewhat broken up by the sudden intrusions of the trio of kids they had met in Balbadd or friendly visits from the other generals. Hinahoho and Masrur especially were keen on visiting him, the Imuchakk warrior in his warm, fatherly manner and Masrur in his strangely companionable silence. Still, Ja’far passed his nights alone, walking the grounds for longer and longer durations, sometimes wandering off into the city only to return to an empty bed and that familiar aching sensation. It had not gone away as he had been expecting, but rather it seemed to have gotten worse. Ja’far refused to accept this reality, convincing himself he was merely imagining things, and yet he often began to dread the night when he was alone with his own thoughts. Not the thoughts of Ja’far, advisor to the king, or Ja’far, one of the Eight Generals of Sindria, but the thoughts of Ja’far, the man laying alone in bed with an aching chest and uncontrollable feelings. His sleep grew restless.

The next week was decidedly not fine. Ja’far started waking up later, so that the sun was well above the horizon by the time he managed to extract himself from the tangled mess of blankets that ensnared him. He found it difficult to stay focused on his work for very long, and while he appreciated the visits from the others, he began to look at them and wonder why it was only them, and not the one person he really wanted to see. His nightly walks often took well over an hour, guiding him like one in a trance to the ocean shore, where the scent of the sea stirred up feelings of yearning deep in his heart. He would return to the palace slowly and reluctantly, only to stand out on his balcony and stare up at the dark sky and twinkling stars, feeling so utterly alone. He felt ashamed of himself. Sinbad had entrusted him to run the country in his absence, but all Ja’far could do was fall apart at the seams and long for his king to return. He was not sure he could stand any more of this.

“You’ve trusted a fool, Sin,” Ja’far sighed, feeling his warm breath faintly tickle the cold skin of his cheeks. He had been outside too long, not that he really cared.

Ja’far could only imagine what Sinbad was doing in the Kou Empire at that very moment. No doubt it was stressful, as he would be playing a complex political game hidden by a façade of friendly smiles that never quite reached the eyes and words that never quite meant what was heard. But it was also commonplace to hold grand banquets and celebrations for esteemed visitors, with beautiful performances and beautiful women aplenty, and the thought of Sinbad enjoying such festivities, as he undoubtedly would, awoke a ferocity in Ja’far that might rival his bloodlust in battle had it not also been tainted by sorrow and a distinct feeling of helplessness.

Ja’far closed his eyes and rested his head atop his arms that were slung across the railing of the balcony. It was very late at night by this point, and Ja’far knew he needed to sleep, but he would give anything to avoid entering back into the prison that was his empty bed. A sudden wind picked up and brushed through his uncovered white hair, tickling his forehead while also carrying with it the pleasant scent of the sea. Ja’far knew it was just a ridiculous fabrication of his lonely mind, but it almost felt like Sinbad was right next to him, watching him with those golden eyes of infinite depth. Bracing for disappointment, he dared to open his eyes and greet the empty space around him.

“I was really expecting you to be asleep, Ja’far. Staying up this late is no good for you.”

Ja’far instinctively grabbed hold of his household vessel to attack the sudden intruder, but he stopped just short. Surely this was a mirage, or some twisted trick of the mind. Surely this was not what he thought.

“This is no way to greet your king, Ja’far.”

There, hovering in midair just past the railing of the balcony, was Sinbad. He was adorned in the outfit of his Focalor djinn equip, long hair flowing down his back where they transformed seamlessly into beautiful dark feathers that ruffled slightly in the breeze around him. His golden jewelry glittered in the moonlight.

“S-Sin,” Ja’far stuttered out clumsily. Surely this was his imagination?

Sinbad landed softly onto the balcony next to Ja’far, smirking at his advisor and taking apparent satisfaction in seeing him so stunned.

Ja’far disciplined his slack jaw and managed to compose himself somewhat in order to ask, “What are you doing here?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” Sinbad chuckled, a sound that sent pleasant shivers down Ja’far’s spine. “I came to see you.”

“Why?”

“I missed you.”

Ja’far could feel himself burning just from those mere words. He averted his gaze from his king and hid his face behind the sleeves of his robe.

“Ja’far.”

Ja’far felt Sinbad wrap his hands around his wrists and lower his arms from his heated face. They were so close now, and Ja’far’s heart was racing. All the past days and all the utter loneliness he had felt echoed chaotically in his mind, dimmed only by a single pervasive thought; Sinbad had flown all the way from the Kou Empire to see him.

Before Ja’far knew what he was doing, he reached up to wrap his arms around Sinbad’s bare neck and pulled him into a desperate kiss. He could feel Sinbad’s hands running through his hair as he was pushed against the railing of the balcony, his back arching as Sinbad deepened the kiss and pressed a leg in between his own. Ja’far moaned into the kiss as he felt Sinbad’s hands wandering down, sliding his robe off his shoulders and trailing his hands down his arms. Wherever Sinbad’s feathers brushed, Ja’far’s skin tingled, a warm sensation pooling deep in his stomach.

When Sinbad broke the kiss, Ja’far was feeling light-headed. He was flush against Sinbad’s bare chest now as the man began to trail kisses down the side of his neck. Ja’far bit his lip to try and suppress the sounds of his growing desperation, but then Sinbad reached the point where his neck met his right shoulder and bit down on it. Ja’far gasped and threw his head back, gripping Sinbad’s shoulders tightly.

“S-Sin!”

Sinbad raised his head to softly bite Ja’far’s ear before whispering, “I missed you so much, Ja’far.”

“Sin,” Ja’far whined his king’s name quietly, averting his gaze to glance longingly inside.

Sinbad chuckled again before easily picking up Ja’far and carrying him to the bed. Ja’far’s disheveled robes came off easily and Sinbad tossed them carelessly to the side. Ja’far was underneath him now, fully exposed. Sinbad’s long, feather-like hair cascaded down his shoulders and tickled softly against Ja’far’s exposed stomach. Sinbad kissed Ja’far once more on the mouth before turning his attention downwards. Slowly, he trailed kisses down Ja’far’s chest and stomach, which drew a sharp breath from the pale man. Ja’far rested one arm above his head while the other stretched out, hand clutching at the sheets, as Sinbad slowly lifted one of the smaller man’s legs to trace kisses across the scars that marked his sensitive skin.

“You’re beautiful, Ja’far,” Sinbad mumbled against the skin of Ja’far’s inner thigh.

“And you’re slow,” Ja’far replied breathily.

Sinbad smirked, not failing to notice Ja’far’s fully erect member. He purposely let the feathers on one of his arms brush against it, eliciting another gasp from Ja’far, who promptly followed up the sound with a sharp glare at Sinbad.

“All right,” Sinbad conceded, not bothering to hide his satisfaction.

Sinbad reached up to the oil light by the bedside, wetting his fingers before leaning back to admire Ja’far one last time. Then, he reached down and slid one finger inside Ja’far, watching the immediate effect it had on his general. Ja’far moaned and squirmed as Sinbad moved his finger around, slowly stretching Ja’far until he could fit his second finger inside. Ja’far tossed his head back and let out a soft cry, squeezing tightly against Sinbad’s fingers in a way that only served to further Sinbad’s own growing excitement. With his other hand, he began to stroke his own erect cock as he finished preparing Ja’far.

“Sin, please,” Ja’far moaned desperately, “I need you. Now.”

Sinbad could no longer wait either. He removed his fingers from Ja’far’s stretched hole and shifted positions so Ja’far could wrap his legs around him. He pushed his skirt out of the way and, grabbing Ja’far by the hips, pressed his cock against Ja’far’s entrance. He slid in slowly at first as Ja’far keened and panted.

“Relax,” Sinbad told his general.

“ _Trying_ ,” Ja’far managed to gasp through the intensity of the sensations clouding his thinking as Sinbad finally reached hilt-deep inside him.

Sinbad moved gently at first, savoring the soft moans escaping Ja’far’s mouth. It did not last long, though, as soon Ja’far was pushing back against Sinbad, his grey eyes sharp and needy.

“Faster, Sin,” Ja’far begged.

Sinbad needed no further prompting. He pounded into Ja’far fast and hard as Ja’far keened and cried his name. His world was a blur of sensation and he could no longer think beyond the feeling of Sinbad, _his_ Sinbad, deep inside him, pushing him ever closer to the edge. He could feel those golden eyes fixed on him, those fingers pressing against the soft skin of his hips, those feathers trailing light touches across his legs. He could feel _Sinbad_ , and that thought was what finally drove him over. There were spots in Ja’far’s vision as he came, crying out Sinbad’s name as he did. Hearing his partner call his name and feeling him clench tightly around his cock, Sinbad only had to thrust deeply into Ja’far once more before he came as well.

Ja’far was still a panting mess when Sinbad pulled out of him. He got up and easily picked up Ja’far to lay him comfortably on the bed under a clean sheet, before crawling under the sheet himself to lay next to his advisor, who immediately rested his head against Sinbad’s chest to use as a pillow. Sinbad finally released his djinn equip and felt the full impact of his exhaustion hit him. Lazily, he drew Ja’far closer with one arm slung over the smaller man’s shoulder and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. Ja’far yawned and mumbled against Sinbad’s chest.

“I missed you too, Sin.”

“Get some rest, Ja’far,” Sinbad said quietly, “you look exhausted.”

“All your fault,” Ja’far muttered almost incoherently.

Sinbad chuckled softly, watching with a small smile on his face as Ja’far’s breathing slowed. He knew he would have to leave early in order to return to the Kou Empire before anyone noticed he was missing, but for now, he just wanted to enjoy this moment with Ja’far. He had missed his advisor far too much.


End file.
